


Under the Mistletoe

by potentiallyAWKWARD



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Mistletoe, NSFW, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiallyAWKWARD/pseuds/potentiallyAWKWARD
Summary: "Does it have to be on the mouth?""What?" I replied too quickly, wincing. "Oh, the kiss? No, of course not..." My heart sunk.After staring at me for several seconds, Sherlock smirked, slow and sexy and promising. His tongue dipped out and moistened his Cupid's bow lips, gracefully sinking to his knees.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta mrb488!
> 
> Prompt: mistletoe

For nearly a month I had been working up the nerve to do it. Already I had set up a tree in our living room and hung stockings on the fireplace, and I had been afraid that if I made a move too soon, Sherlock would get tired of it too quickly.

So, on Christmas Eve morning, I grabbed a step stool, a nail, and a bunch of mistletoe, and hung it over the door to the second floor of the flat. Pleased, I went back upstairs before Sherlock woke up, and continued my morning like normal.

~~~

It was nearly midnight before we got home from the party that Greg Lestrade had thrown (he had just moved into a new flat after filing for divorce with his wife. She'd been cheating on him with her personal trainer... again.)

Pleasantly buzzed, Sherlock and I stumbled up the stairs to the second floor, laughing at something that neither of us remembered. It wasn't until Sherlock looked up at the doorframe that I remembered.

"Oh," I said, feigning surprise. "Mrs. Hudson must've put that up earlier?"

Sherlock's eyes flickered to mine, slightly glossy and impossibly blue and brilliant. "Perhaps. She's at her sister's house for the weekend, left this morning."

"Yeah." I was starting to feel rather uncomfortable standing here, unsure if Sherlock thought he was required to kiss me or not. "Look-"

"Does it have to be on the mouth?"

"What?" I replied too quickly, wincing. "Oh, the...? No, of course not..." My heart sunk. Of course he wouldn't be interested in kissing me on the lips; he had never shown any interest in anyone, and this was merely a joking kiss on the cheek between best mates when they were both slightly drunk.

After staring at me for several seconds, Sherlock smirked, slow and sexy and promising. His tongue dipped out and moistened his Cupid's bow lips, gracefully sinking to his knees.

"Oh. OH," I gasped. "Sherlock, wh-?"

"Don't pretend you haven't thought about this," Sherlock smirked, reaching out and unzipping my trousers. I let out another gasp as my cock stirred.

"Fu- Sherlock. You don't need to-" I groaned, all conviction gone before I even started.

"You're right, I don't need to," Sherlock agreed simply, teeth grazing the waistband to my red pants. "But I really, really want to."

I closed my eyes. Jesus. "Sherlock," I groaned, hips rocking forward involuntarily.

He nuzzled against my stiff cock with his nose, smiling. "What do you want?" he asked, mouthing gently at my shaft through my pants.

"You know what I want," I replied breathlessly, fisting one hand in his long, dark curls. They were just as soft as I had imagined so many nights in my bedroom, alone... "I want you to... kiss me. On not-my-mouth."

"Come on, 'Three Continents Watson.' You didn't get that title by playing coy."

He was just teasing me now, mouth moving against me, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

"I want you to suck my cock," I grit out as Sherlock peeled down my pants. Finally.

"No you don't," Sherlock replied, looking up at me. His eyes were dark, the pupils nearly eclipsing the light blue irises. "You want to fuck my mouth."

I hardly had enough time to register that before his lips were around me and in, in, in, Jesus he was taking me deep, tight and hot and wet and tongue swirling-

And then his mouth was gone, and he was pressing light kisses to my tip and my knees were weak. Jesus.

"Isn't that what you want?" Sherlock continued as if there hadn't been a pause where he had taken my whole length into his mouth.

"Yes-?" I gasped, tugging lightly on his hair to make him do whatever he had just done again.

Sherlock licked a stripe up my shaft with his hot, wet, wicked tongue, swirling around my swollen head. "Tell me. What do you want?"

My hips undulated as he took in my tip and sucked very, very, maddeningly gently. "I want to fuck your mouth, or your arse, or your cock, I want you to touch me, and don't stop until I cum, and then I'll get you off, if you want that I mean, and if not that's okay, but I really hope you do, because I want to taste you," and I was rambling, but Jesus Sherlock had asked for me to talk and if that was all it took for his clever lips to close around my cock I'd be damned if I would stop talking until I was limp.

"Maybe this is why all your girlfriends leave you," Sherlock chuckled, moving his attention to my scrotum.

"Ah- what?" I asked, even though it didn't matter because he had taken my testicles into his mouth and Jesus, he was good at this, had he ever done it before?

"You talk too much," Sherlock said simply as he let me fall out of his mouth, a thin line of drool breaking off onto his chin. "Shut up and let me suck you off."

A shaky "okay?" had barely fallen out of my mouth before his lips were sliding down my shaft and I was completely in his mouth again and his tongue swirled, swirled, and he sucked, and Jesus Christ he knew how to give head.

He bobbed his head and I yanked his hair, head falling back as the world tilted in sheer pleasure. My hips were moving of their own accord, and I held his head still as I thrust, hard and deep and rough, into his throat and my tip skimmed the back of his throat, did he have no gag reflex? and then he was swallowing around me, again and again, and with one last thrust and something that was either a grunt or a sob or something in between I came, hard and long.

Sherlock, of course, swallowed every drop, only pulling his mouth off me after I had gone limp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, knees wobbling for only a moment.

"Fuck, Sherlock, where did you learn that?" I finally panted after the stars had disappeared from my vision.

"I went to uni," he shrugged. "Next time you want to kiss me, just do it."

"Don't you want me to- I dunno, reciprocate?" I asked, eyeing the considerable bulge in his trousers. (I had never been the best at giving blowjobs, but after that, it was the least I could do.)

Sherlock shrugged, eyes sparkling. "I'm fine. It will work itself out. I'd drink a glass of water before you go to bed or you'll have an awful hangover tomorrow." He leaned in to my ear, lips brushing against my earlobe. "Happy Christmas."

Without another word, he opened the door and walked into the kitchen, and after several moments of standing frozen like an idiot, I started up the stairs to my bedroom.


End file.
